Author's Note: And here's a double update, because inspiration struck.
Soooo... this is chapter 3. I struggled a bit with this one, specifically with portraying the big bads. I'd really appreciate it if you guys tell me what you think! Criticism is always welcome! Improving my writing is, like, one of my life goals, so please don't hesitate in telling me your honest opinion.
On another note - 5 reviews, guys! 50 followers and 26 favourites! Thank you so much! And to animalsarepeopletoo, whose pm feature is turned off, thanks for your kind words! I was pretty worried I'd get Bakugou's character wrong, and it's good to know that you liked what I wrote.
Disclaimer: Don't own, probably never will. 'Probably', because a girl can dream...
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Three - project 022
Izuku remembers the first Quirk specialist they went to.
The doctor was a balding man, with a pot belly and small, round glasses. He sat them down in his office and broke the news to them in a blunt but soft tone.
There was nothing wrong with Izuku, the doctor told them. He didn't have the toe joint, so it was entirely possible that Izuku had a Quirk and just wasn't showing it yet. Still, the chances of him developing a Quirk, as time passed by, decreased greatly, said Dr. Tsubasa.
Izuku was five, at the time. With every day that came and went, those odds dropped more and more.
(Sometimes the uncertainty is the worst. He'd rather have a clear diagnosis than one that's almost mocking him, giving him false hope. He'd rather know for sure what his future will be like, instead of balancing on a thin thread, wishing that what everyone else thinks is wrong.
He's not Quirkless. He's not.)
Izuku remembers his mother crying when they got home. There were other specialists after that, other clinics and pitying doctors who all said the same thing: that there was nothing they could do. Either Izuku was Quirkless, or his Quirk wasn't showing yet, or it was one of those subtle ones, the type that nobody can tell exist.
An invisible Quirk is better than nothing at all, he knows. But something like Kacchan's would be far more useful, especially in heroics. And right now – it would be real useful right now. Izuku wonders how Kacchan's explosions will fare against this man, his kidnapper. It'll probably change nothing, because the man's breath is scary, but Kacchan's Quirk would do something, at least. Meanwhile, Izuku is stuck following along, struck silent, for once not muttering absentmindedly.
He's too terrified to even think properly.
Izuku wonders, sickly, how his mother will react when she realises he's missing. Or maybe they'll find his body before then. Who knows? Maybe this man is a killer, a murderer, and he will make Izuku burn and scream, his skin melting with poisonous vapour, before he finally dies.
They leave the park. There is a cold hand on his arm. The man's skin is rough and dry, his fingers calloused. Izuku has to fight the urge to rip himself away.
Takara-san, the one who likes feeding the birds, lifts his head and smiles at them kindly, obliviously. No doubt he thinks Izuku and the man know each other.
They make a turn once they're out on the streets, and suddenly the man's grip tightens, and he's being pulled into an alleyway. Izuku's eyes catch on a surveillance camera in the corner, but it has the look of one that's been abandoned for too long, rusted and broken from age.
He wonders if there will be anything left for the police, the heroes, to find.
He didn't know that it could be this easy to disappear in Musutafu.
The man in the hoodie lets go of his arm, but Izuku cannot bring himself to run, stiff with fear and nerves. The man glances down at him disdainfully, reaching into his pocket to pull out a phone.
It is plain and black, with no visible branding. The man dials a number.
"Akagiri," he greets, his voice low and rough. "Sakuracho St., second alley."
Izuku strains his ears; there is no reply. But he sees, out of the corner of his eye, red.
A portal opens, spiralling into existence. It is the colour of blood, of Kacchan's scarlet eyes. The man pushes Izuku in roughly, and he is falling, spinning into nowhere, into nothingness –
Izuku hits the floor face-first.
He scrambles up. He is in a room with purple carpeting, dim yellow lights, and a broad window overlooking the skyline of an unfamiliar city. It looks almost like an office, except there is no desk or chair. Nothing except a lonely-looking potted plant by the door.
There is a new person in the corner of the room – Izuku can't tell if they're male or female, because their body is made of curling mist.
The man in the hoodie steps through the portal and into the room behind him, as casually as if he's done it a thousand times before. "Stand straight, boy," he says.
It's a hypocritical order, as the man himself is slouching. Izuku trembles, though, and tries to straighten his back and square his shoulders, like Kacchan always does.
"I am Kumo," the hoodie man says.
"And I am Akagiri," introduces the person in the corner of the room, whose voice is too low to be a woman's.
His body, made of malevolent red mist, is the same colour as the portal that brought them here. His eyes glow yellow and he wears a black suit with a red bowtie.
"We are the Triumvirate," Kumo says, "your new bosses."
He pulls down his hood, revealing neat black hair and tanned skin. There are deep bags under his dull eyes.
Akagiri, who has no mouth, nonetheless seems to smile at Izuku. "A triumvirate, of course, has three members. Our colleague is currently busy, but he congratulates you on your decision to join us in our mission to rebuild this world."
There are many things Izuku should say to that, but he cannot force out a word.
Kumo leers down at his meek silence. "Scared, are you, boy?"
"N-no," Izuku squeaks out.
"You work for us, now," says Akagiri calmly. His voice is slow and thick like overly-sweet honey. "Please remember that, Midoriya-kun. I know this is an uncomfortable situation, but do not be afraid. Obey us and you will not be harmed."
Kumo breathes out a puff of grey that only damages his clothes further, the scent of scorched fabric filling the air. It is a warning.
Disobeying, obviously, is not a viable option.
Akagiri spreads his arms, red mist wisping around his impeccably ironed sleeves. "We are always looking for new employees," he says. "And our other colleague, Hiseki – he is a man with great dreams for our organisation, the Order of the Triumvirate. He proposed an interesting plan: Project 022, where we take in underappreciated, neglected children with great potential and induct them into our Order."
"I'll admit, Midoriya Izuku, that I am still skeptical," says Kumo. He peers down at Izuku with a predatory stare. "Only time will tell of your usefulness, I suppose."
"Do you know why we chose you, Midoriya-kun?" Akagiri asks. "Your IQ test results. You are the highest scoring living person in Japan, boy. And yet the world dismisses you because you are Quirkless."
Izuku's bottom lip quivers. "I'm not Quirkless."
"It doesn't matter what you believe." Akagiri sounds almost sympathetic. "You might not have the toe joint, but once you reach seven years of age, your chances of manifesting a Quirk drops down to one in three hundred odds."
Izuku is almost seven.
"The world will hate you for it – the statistics do not lie. Most Quirkless people never get a job, did you know? Fifty percent are dead before their thirtieth birthdays, by suicide and hate crimes and many other things."
"You should be thanking us," Kumo says. "We're giving you a chance to do something with your life and intellect, when the rest of the universe doesn't care."
"I wanna go home," Izuku chokes out. "I want my mom!"
He tries not to look at them, their burning pity and sugared words. He stares at the potted plant by the door with wet eyes.
"I'm afraid you won't be seeing her again, Midoriya-kun," Akagiri says gently. He walks closer and lays an incorporeal, barely-there hand on Izuku's shaking shoulder.
"Do not worry – she will remain unharmed for as long as you do what we say."
That is threat, he knows.
"Don't t-touch her," Izuku says.
"An assertive child, aren't you?" Akagiri laughs, his hand dropping from Izuku's shoulder. "Be assured, Midoriya. Your mother will come to no harm as long as you obey."
Things are going too fast for him to process properly. There are hiccups building in his chest, but he can't bring himself to sob.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, he was glaring at Katsuki with trembling fists. Now he faces a different kind of cruelty, one that will not hesitate to slit his throat should he prove to be a bad investment, Izuku knows.
An investment. That is all he is, Izuku thinks woodenly. He and whoever else who is taken for this 'Project 022'.
He was so proud of his exam results. It was something that proved he wasn't useless. It was something he did, that made his mom happy and got everyone else to back off for a while. But if only he'd scored lowly – he wouldn't be here now.
"You will begin training tomorrow," Akagiri announces. "Should you work hard, you will be rewarded. We'll see how your lessons go, and in time you will participate in operations and prove your worth."
"You're the first subject of Project 022," says Kumo. "Be proud."
He smiles mockingly, his lips thin and pale, but it doesn't reach his eyes. It seems as if nothing does.
The dim lighting of the room makes his blank gaze flash. Izuku shudders.
"In time you will understand our vision," Akagiri says, red mist curling around the white collar of his shirt.
Once again, Akagiri seems to smile.
"There will be other children coming soon. I hope you all get along."
Izuku wants to say, I don't know your vision, or How many others are you taking? But he knows he will cry if he opens his mouth, so he doesn't.
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He stays in a room that has white walls and a white tiled floor and bright, white lights. It is a small room, with no windows or desks or chairs, just two military-style bunk beds, placed against opposing walls. That makes four beds total, and Izuku sleeps on a lower bunk, which has a hard mattress and white sheets and a thin white pillow.
Everything in the bathroom is white as well. What is not white is gleaming steel, like the toilet and the sink and the showerhead.
He gets sick of the white in less than a day. He misses his bedroom, his colourful posters and hero merch and the notebooks on his shelves.
The notebooks. Izuku's worked for nearly a year on them, ever since he learned to write. Months of effort, three notebooks, pages upon pages of careful analysis on Quirks – all gone because he'll never see his home again.
Izuku doesn't dare ask for new pens or notebooks or anything from the Triumvirate people, his captors. It's not like he'll be using them now. There's no one he can talk to, anyway. He was brought to his new bedroom by one of Akagiri's portals, and he hasn't heard anything from him or Kumo since then.
There is a small window in his door, and when he jumps up high, he can see that there are two guards outside his room, wearing navy uniforms and carrying sleek guns. There is an unfamiliar insignia on the sleeves of their jackets – a white triskelion in a circle of deep purple. The symbol of this 'Order of the Triumvirate', maybe.
There are cameras in his room. Two of them, looking shiny and new and top-of-the-line. They stare down at Izuku with beatle eyes, red lights flashing like a warning – try anything funny and you won't like the consequences.
Not that there's anything he can try. There is nothing in the room except the beds, and all Izuku has on him are the clothes on his back.
Eventually he lies down on his new, uncomfortable mattress. It is adult-sized, like his captors anticipate him staying here for many, many years.
He doesn't get much sleep that night.
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A/N: We meet the villains! Who are they? Are they related to the League of Villains? Why is Akagiri so similar to Kurogiri? In fact, why does Kumo seem similar to Shigaraki as well? Who the hell are the Order of the Triumvirate? What is their 'vision'? Who is Hiseki? What exactly is Project 022 and why is that its name? Will Izuku get a Quirk? Who will occupy the other three beds of Izuku's room?
(Well, that last one is pretty obvious if you've read the character tags.)
Thanks for reading! Reviews mean the world to me :D